Thursday, April 13, 2017

I may be silent, but that hardly means I’m any less smitten with Katie Boyd.

Just because I haven’t written a poem for Katie in a while doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about her or that I’m any less in love with her.
I’ve been warm for her form and intoxicated by her whirling dervish mind ever since the world crawled from God’s cold, dead hands and became its own force to be reckoned with.
Evolution is but a cliff note and if you don’t believe me just ask Charlie once he’s done playing with his tortoises and hanging out with Snoopy and Woodstock.

Look I hardly know what I’m going on about and that’s all on account of Katie Boyd and how she affects my mind.
It’s as if I’m drunk and I hardly even had a sip of wine. In fact I’ve been drinking diet grape juice all night and haven’t smoked any pot in far too long a time.
She’s the girl next door I always wanted to get to know, but was too afraid to approach because I figured she was way too cool for the boring and trying likes of me.

I’ve been a wallflower long before wallflowers came into vogue and I don’t expect to bloom anytime soon even though I’m nearly fifty years old and being an adult is something I should have committed to a long time ago.
I don’t have any blueprint and perhaps that’s the issue at hand because I never plan for anything and when it comes to preventative medicine I’ve always opted for less pills and more prayer.
Her inquisitive eyes and winsome sighs brought me to this jumping off place where the rubber meets the road and the hopeless romantics either get with the program or end up left out in the cold.

Charles Cicirella

Calling Out to You from the Darkness

It’s both dark and light here.
The light takes on the characteristics of the dark and vice versa.
It’s the way things have been since God created Man and Man turned his back on the Son.

We resist what we do not understand and in due time that’s all we’ll have left as another Passion Play is written in blood and our hands are washed in chlorine gas and sniper fire.
There’s no good reason to fight against the ghosts in the machine except that the ghosts today are not the same ghosts from yesterday and when you say Macbeth in a theatre you best be ready for the roof to collapse in on you.
I was just a lonely stagehand when I spied you up on that stage like a nightingale or resistance fighter. The way you carry yourself will forever impress and impregnate the situation with opened ended questions and mixed signals.

I desire to make love to you in the backlot of some nightscape we both know we’ll never escape from.
As I enter you from behind and you moan in ecstasy everything will be as it should be until it’s not and we’re blindfolded and executed for crimes against our vaulted psyches.
You’re the one I always imagined would come to me in the middle of my most prosaic and profound of night terrors. I was covered in sweat and all you were draped in was a towel and your very hot and rhapsodic skin.

The darkness got in my eyes before I attempted to kiss your mouth one final time before the curtain came down and another government is driven from power.
Don’t you believe it when they report on how smooth a transition is going when nothing could be further from the truth and our fractured Democracy is down for a very long and tortuous count?
I’ll never forget when you asked me to lick you from the inside out and how the noises you made reminded me of when I was in the womb and taking cover was the only option left to reexamine.
You’re a child of God and together we make up a divinity both divine and claustrophobic in its unintended consequences and lost horizons. And I’ll love you until the end of time.

Charles Cicirella

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Ninth Poem (Lusting after Transcendence)

Dances like a spinning top
On fire from within a volcano of angst and stressful retaliation
Nothing tires her out except thinking about the next day and the scheduling of empty spaces

Met her in a roomful of mirrors and black eyed peas
I was the one hiding in plain sight
She was the one eating a burger and fries in the middle of the joint

We do our very best to pretend we’re not pretending
Of course being scared straight has both its advantages and disadvantages when you’re being graded on a curve and slippery slopes are still all the rage
When I brought up the possibility of lubrication she said it would not be necessary because she was wetter than a kid’s waterpark in the middle of a sweltering August

I like my martinis medium dry, lemon peel. Shaken not stirred
I like my women black and as mysterious as Agatha Christie inspired and intoxicated
I believe they’re the cradle of civilization and messing with that only gets you feeling more alone as the world weighs upon you like a cartoon safe or pink elephant

Dances like a nation in revolt, seeking sweet, untainted asylum
Makes it up while she goes along because her improvisation will beat your planned attacks every day of the week including weekends
No one will ever get the best of her because she holds her cards close to her magnificent breasts and only lowers her guard when convinced there are no crocs in the advancing waters.

Charles Cicirella